So, I’m walking toward the enormous, proud, erect, even phallic, 20 foot bronze statue of Stan Musial, when I hear snickering behind me. I know I’m a little sweaty after the car ride, but I didn’t think I looked all that funny. In fact, I thought I looked pretty cute. Then I looked down. Oh joy oh rapture, hello world, my fly is WIDE OPEN! There is nowhere for me to sneak into and discretely zip, so I just grap the zipper and yank it up as I’m walking. Yeah, yeah, hi there, I’m the dork with her fly open and hey, by the way, did you notice I don’t have any underwear on?! Of course you didn’t… So, I get to the statue, and while waiting, decide not to plop down on the ground for fear I have one of those magic opening zippers. (It’s 97 degrees with 100% humidity, so it’s not like I noticed a breeze).
After about a half hour, I see him looking around. Doesn’t even notice me, but in a sea of red hats and tee shirts, I can’t blame him…well, not too much, anyway. It’s not like this is our first meeting or anything, it’s not like there’s a gaggle of women with black hair and blonde streaks standing by the pre-arranged meeting spot, it’s not like it’s hard to miss a cute girl with big hooters waving at him…who’s showing her “kitty” to the world cuz my DAMN fly is once again wide open to the world (I see how this night’s gonna go). We hand over our tickets and find our seats. Wow… there’s some guy in a Bugs Bunny costume, (the tux wearing Bugs mind you), throwing out the first pitch. And now to sing our national anthem, Sharron Fields. We were impressed that they had gone out as far as getting an actual Six Flags employee to sing the anthem. To be honest, she didn’t do a bad job of it, but I guess I had been spoiled by only having been to California games before. Okay, so the game starts and I was proud to pay $5.00 for a beer. As I’m sipping my beer, Crunch tells me in a low voice that he is hoping to get his balls signed. After I do a double take, I shrug, pull out my lipstick, and start bending over, figuring that I’ve done kinkier stuff when he tells me that he is talking about the two regulation BASEballs that he brought with him. (I’m still not sure if I’m relieved or if I’m disappointed).
Game’s fun, Cards are doing well, but I need to pee. I excuse myself, take care of business and browse the souvenier shop before coming back. Get back to my seat and sit down. Oops, I forgot to sneak a smoke like I meant to. So, I get up again, “sorry Crunch” and quick smoke time.
After I sit down again, I am informed that I am no longer allowed to leave my seat. Each time I left, either the Cards screwed something up or, horror of horrors, the Twins score! He leaves after another inning and a half, and I keep watching the game along with the awesome lightning show in the background. He comes back just as the downpour starts and I’m zipping up my damn fly again. Watching them unroll the big plastic sheet over the diamond was pretty damned cool! We sit in our semi-crappy seats, suddenly glad we are in the seats just under and shielded by the nosebleed seats. Well, doesn’t look as though the game’s going to restart anytime soon, so we duck inside to the concourse for some souvenier shopping and a smoke. I was very grateful by this time that I had some good company with me.
Hey, the rain’s stopping! After an hour and a half… “Play Ball!” As we get back to our seats, we have to kick two people out of our seats. And here, I didn’t think our seats were that good. After, oh say, 10 minutes, a woman and three young girls take the seats directly behind us. Definitely not the same people who were behind for the first 4 1/2 innings. I think I’d have rememebered the very loud young voices assaulting my ears with each “bur-nur-nur-nur-nur-nur CHARGE!!!” So, I get the great idea of switching seats again. It had to be my idea… I’m not sure why but I was assured that Crunch would have several arguments ready to prove it was my doing, including witnesses and charts, if need be. So we sorta ooze around, looking for a good place to sit. Oooh, only one section down from where we were, but a hell of a lot closer to first base. I look down… yup, my fly is open again to the world… god knows how long it’s been that way. Another zip up. We slide down into our newly claimed seats to discover, they’re filled with water from the rain! Yes, I am taking full responsibility for both Crunch’s and my big wet asses right now. (I was assured that any resistance on my part would be futile). So it was me… all me… I am the one that made Crunch’s ass wet on July 17, 2001. But I also have to state that I also claim full responsibility for my own shorts having a large wet spot. Yes, Crunchy Frog had NOTHING to do with making me wet… <grin> At this point, all I can do is accept the blame and enjoy the rest of the game, along with the company:)
Thanks for the ticket, Ron. I had a great time, and next time I promise I’ll not leave my towel in the car 
Yes, for those who may be wondering, Crunch is just as witty, charming, attractive, and just plumb fun to be with as he appears to be in writing. Doesn’t hurt that he has a nice speaking voice too. Not to mention one HELL of a nice wet ass
BTW - next time I’ll try to talk about something other than baseball. I know, I’m obsessed with the game as it is, but we were at the stadium! I had to talk baseball!
